


dearest (you are the nearest to my heart)

by hawrthiacoopri, peridottie



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, im so so sorry eddie, it only goes downhill from here, listen, slowburn, this is gonna be a wild ride
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2018-11-05 02:05:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11003724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawrthiacoopri/pseuds/hawrthiacoopri, https://archiveofourown.org/users/peridottie/pseuds/peridottie
Summary: Any thought he had about Bill or Richie or any boy was permeated with the carrion-sweet voice of the wretched leper. Eddie’s poor mind had adopted the leper as a suppressant figure of sorts, a kind of built-in slap on the wrist, reminding Eddie of what his own brain had decided would become of him should he become Actively  Queer, which was different than Eddie’s case, which was Dormantly Queer. It gave him all the things Eddie swore he’d never do. And so Eddie unhappily trudged along, promising himself one thing- he could look at whatever boys he liked. But he was never to touch or speak of it aloud, and he would live his life as he was supposed to.Or at least, try to.





	1. Chapter 1

Lips brushed over the sharp of Bill’s cheekbone and he shivered, his hair and neck prickling with goosebumps. He sighed a little, a shaky sound that barely passed his teeth, and smiled at the feeling of the warm boy behind him. He slowly turned over to see Eddie, beautiful Eddie, and smiled even wider, Eddie looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes, his full lips pursed slightly as if he’d been getting ready to go in for another kiss. 

“Hey, Eh-ds,” he said soothingly (although he didn’t know why, Eddie clearly didn’t need to be soothed- he seemed perfectly happy), putting an arm around the shorter boy’s shoulders. “Wuh-what’s guh-hoing on?”

In his mind’s eye, he was laying in the grass in the barrens- except for it was different. The foliage was just that much closer together, that much more lush, that much more covering. Eddie, of course, was at his side, as always- his normally militarily combed, slicked back hair springing around his face in blonde curls, free of the rigid shell of mousse Sonya Kaspbrak insisted on putting there. His dusty-green eyes were trained sweetly on Bill’s blue ones, full of adulation and trust. That was what he liked best about Eddie, after all- he was so completely and unquestioningly devoted to Bill, and what more could a guy want? Nothing, honestly. 

Eddie; his Eddie, he thought privately, meaning it to be a harmless name and nonetheless giving himself a chill at that phrase, knowing it was wrong and almost sinful to want to call Eddie /his/- opened his mouth to say something; ‘good, how about you, Big Bill?’ perhaps, or maybe just ‘I’m fine. I love you, did you know that?’- but a crude laugh cut through the peaceful universe he had created.

Richie.

Bill sat up quickly, looking around for Richie, and found him coming down the steep hill with Stanley Uris and Eddie in tow, the latter whining irritably at Richie’s hand being run through his hair. 

“Richie, no, you’ll mess it up!” He said helplessly, Richie’s cackles and teasing quickly drowning him out. Stan’s steady stream of dry quips seemed to have slowed to a trickle, and Bill quickly saw why. After all, what kind of leader would he be if he didn’t notice things about his friends? Stan had his nose buried in a new book about his all-time favorite subject- birds. It seemed in mint condition. Or, well did, before Richie reached for it and Stan jerked away, his hand jerking from the page and tearing it slightly. He hissed, before looking at Richie reproachfully and cracking a reluctant smile after looking at his funnier friend’s earnest grin. One rip wouldn’t do /too/ much, after all… 

Bill rolled his eyes, running a hand through his ginger hair and standing up. “Hey, you guh-guys,” he called, trotting over with his hands in his pockets and smiling easily at Stan, who looked unimpressed by Bill’s sudden appearance. 

Stan and Bill were very different people- Stan was studious and fast-paced, full of so many ideas that went unshared and unnoticed, because he simply never opened his mouth. That was natural enough- being best friends with Richie, biggest loudmouth in Derry that he was, didn’t give you much room to lodge yourself into. Bill, on the other hand, didn’t hesitate to share. He wasn’t a gab or a gossip, but he never held back if he had what Richie called a Billy Bright Idea. They also carried themselves differently; Stan was small and slender and unobtrusive, learning from years of beatings to hide his face (read: nose) and body from others to keep them out of harm’s way. Bill was much, much different. He was tall and corded with muscles, his cheekbones sharp and defined. He was tall and broad and handsome, and stood with a confidence he hadn’t expected to develop when he was 12. Now, 4 years later, he most definitely was that. However, Stan and Bill still seemed to remain friends. Albeit, argumentative, challenging friends, but friends all the same. Bill’s realism and Stan’s cynicism got together like the boys they used to be on a playground. 

“Well, I’ll be damned!” Richie practically shrieked, getting to his knees and beginning to bow with hands clasped on his chest from waist-up. “Lord Denbrough! Thank you for gracing us with your presence, my prince! How do you do, I say, I say how do you do?” 

Stan pulled at the fabric of Richie’s oversized button-up, rolling his eyes at Bill performatively and lifting his best friend up without replying. 

“Oh, cuh-c-home on, Stuh-Stan, you’re nuh-not gonna s-s-say hi to muh-me?” Bill prodded quietly, cocking his head in faux confusion and grinning widely. Stan looked at him with a tiredness that spoke of hours spent with Richie, and waved at him shortly. 

“Hey, Bill.” A small voice broke through the din of Richie’s good humors and Stan’s retorts to his prods, and Bill’s attention switched immediately. 

“Hiya, Eddie, wuh-hat’s hangin’?” Bill’s heart filled with the entire menagerie, happy to see his friend looking well again. Eddie beamed up at him, showing his gapped teeth and making Bill feel helpless to this onslaught of lovely, lovely boyhood. 

Eddie shrugged, kicking at the ground a little. “I dunno. I went shopping with my ma earlier. Got this shirt.” He pointed at the shirt he was wearing, saying, “you?”

“Just thinking.”

They all stood in a silence for a moment, before Richie snorted and broke out in peals of laughter, punching Stan in the shoulder so he hollered in pain and surprise and bolted through the woods. Bill joined in eventually, too, pitching after Richie at a breakneck speed he knew he couldn’t replicate on cross country if he tried. Only with Richie were you truly at peak performance, because he kept you on high alert at all times. Eddie was left alone, sitting cross legged in the sandy dirt near the pond. Bill stopped running, finally, slowing to a stop behind the blonde boy and admiring his slight frame. He really was lovely, all made up of flicks and curves and angles, like a drawing.

Bill was only able to admire him for a moment, though, before Eddie heard his labored breathing and looked up sharply, his features softening when he saw who it was. “Hey again, Bill.”

“Hey, kih-kk-eed.” Bill grinned at Eddie, pleased, before laying down next to him and stretching his hands behind his head as if they were a pillow.

Eddie looked fondly down at his friend, gulping slightly at the sight of Bill’s shirt riding up. It showed his boxers slightly, as they were still a little hiked up from preparing to ride Silver that afternoon, just a fraction of the waistband showing, but it was enough to make Eddie skittish in a way that WASN’T fun. He bit his lip to keep himself calm, eyes traveling slightly upwards to take in Bill’s exposed stomach. Bil /was/ very handsome, Eddie would admit, and he had beautiful fair skin, even if he got sunburns constantly. That only made him look cuter, although the peeling made him batshit. He burned and freckled, but never tanned. Poor guy. 

“Wuh-what’re you th-th-thinking uh-about?” Bill craned his neck to look at his blond friend. 

Eddie shrugged morosely. “Stuff.” Stuff was right- Eddie’d being thinking a lot lately.

He knew he was a queer. He knew. It was fairly obvious and he’d never even questioned it for a second. But the thing he absolutely couldn’t take were the memories of the leper that were constantly crawling out of the sewers of his mind and staggering around his psyche, the way it looked at him, what it said. Said in his dreams. Said by the train tracks. Said in every thought he had.

Any thought he had about Bill or Richie or any boy was permeated with the carrion-sweet voice of the wretched leper. He noticed Bill’s new shirt? The leper’s voice would rise from his mind to his ears, telling him that he could offer any number of things to Bill and he’d have a shot at getting his lips on any part of Bill he wanted, that the leper would show him, teach him, love him, in the way only a mother or teacher can. He would meekly protest against the idea that all queers die when his mother claimed the same, and the horrid thing was right there, dancing in front of his eyes, cooing and telling him all of the ways he could just run away and be as queer as he liked until he died as his mother said he would. It was as if It had never left and lived on within Eddie’s head- and indeed it did. Eddie’s poor mind had adopted the leper as a suppressant figure of sorts, a kind of built-in slap on the wrist, reminding Eddie of what his own brain had decided would become of him should he become Actively Queer, which was different than Eddie’s case, which was Dormantly Queer. It gave him all the things Eddie swore he’d never do and reminded him that only FAGS had those, only GIRLYBOYS did that, only QUEERS liked them. And so Eddie unhappily trudged along, promising himself one thing- he could look at whatever boys he liked. He could think however he liked, as of now. But he was never to touch or speak of it aloud, and he would live his life as he was supposed to. He would have a wife, and a child, and an office job and a house at the end of a cul-de-sac. He would be normal, and hopefully, if he was good enough, God would wash away his thoughts and let him like girls. 

The first two rules were easy enough. They were the self-indulgent mark of Eddie’s desire to let go. The No Touching Allowed Under Any Circumstances was hard, to say the least. It was crazy how often the Losers got close, especially Eddie and Bill. Bill was so protective of Eddie. He always had been. He wanted to keep him safe, and so stayed near the short boy. So not touching him, even though he could think about it, was difficult. He would look up at Bill’s pursed lips in the darkness of the (now cramped) clubhouse and think, ‘well gee, those look nice. I wonder how they feel.’ And then shake himself, remembering he couldn’t ever do that. No hugging. No hand-holding. And DEFINITELY no kissing, lest kissing go deeper and lower until Eddie sunk to the level of the leper- which was to say, to his knees. Never would he do that in all of his numbered days on earth. 

He looked at Bill now with a sadness he never thought he’d look at Bill with again, after that dreadful summer four years ago, but he did. His face was troubled and slightly sullen, and Bill took notice.

He put an arm around Eddie and drew him closer, much to Eddie’s chagrin. The redhead smiled a gleaming smile at the pinker boy, and shrugged to imitate him. “Stuh-Stuff, you say?” 

His face was close enough for Eddie to kiss, and he practically shivered with excitement and horror. 

“Yeah,” Eddie breathed again. He saw a glimmer of… something behind Bill’s luminous blue eyes- great, Eddie thought nonsensically, I have a type; blue eyes. Richie has blue eyes, Bill had blue eyes- that filled him with a sick hope, before the leper’s sickly, peeling face with its many yawning wounds appeared before him. 

“Now’s your chance, Eddie,” It urged. “Kiss him, be a good boy, go on! You can come join me and learn how to do it even better. Come on! Hop to it, Prewitt!” 

Eddie jerked away with a gasp at how awful the vision was, how he felt as if he could feel it’s rancid breath on his neck and face and it’s putrid, rotting smell as if the mirage were real. ‘That’s what I get for being a queer,’ Eddie thought jumpily. ‘That’s what you get, Eddie, you better not!’ This part of Eddie sounded suspiciously like his mother, and through his years and years and years of conditioning, he was more inclined to follow that one. 

Bill’s eyes shone again, this time with something different- disappointment, or something similar. Something slightly animalistic, in a way that made his stomach feel hot and his lips curl into a slight sneer with frustration that he didn’t get… what? Didn’t get what he wanted? But what did he want? Eddie’s love? Affection? Both? 

“Uh-” Eddie’s harried voice broke through. “I think that Richie wants us, Big Bill.” Bill’s heart jumped at that name despite his grumpy mood. 

Indeed he did. Richie was standing at the top of the Barrens, calling for Bill specifically. Bill looked over at Eddie for direction- something he’d never done before, he thought with a strange apprehension- and Eddie nodded. 

“I’ll catch up,” he assured. “I’ll just sit for a moment.”

This time, Bill nodded. ”Swuh-Swell.” He looked sideways at Eddie, before starting into a jog. “See you in a muh-m-minutes, Eh-Eh-Eddie.” 

And so Eddie was felt, looking helplessly after whom he considered his very best friend and maybe even someone he was in LOVE with, trying to figure out which was worse- the voice of his pseudo-mother telling him to hide, or the leper telling him to go ahead and do it, he’d go to hell anyways, why wait? 

He knew why he was waiting. He was waiting for Bill’s signal, and unfortunately, he couldn’t see what was right in front of him.

Yet.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie truly believed he didn’t want to be gay. He didn’t want to try to accept himself or make himself feel better. He wanted it to stop. He wanted to like girls. He wanted not to notice boys. He really and earnestly thought this, and tried all the time to make it true. He prayed, hoped, attempted to confirm he was straight… But nothing worked. He always came back to church.
> 
> So there he sat, hands clasped in front of his forehead, his hair in his eyes as he choked back tears and prayed as hard as he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS WAS A LOT OF FUN TO WRITE BUT I FEEL LIKE A MEAN ASS DEMON NOW

Eddie was now, contrary to where we left off, close to tears. Why is this?

Eddie Kaspbrak hated church. So why was he sitting in the back pews of one?

Eddie Kaspbrak also hated himself. 

He never prayed aloud, that would be detrimental- praying requires confession, and confession is impossible. But he’d pray in his head 

(please god wont you make me better please god make him get out of my head)

as loud as he could

(get him out of my head GET HIM OUT OF MY HEAD)

and hope that it worked. And yeah, whatever it was nearly never came to him in his church. It left him alone, gave him space, when he was in church. So he came here to pray and to linger with his mother as long as he could, because outside was still dangerous for him. So he stayed there for now, his prayers becoming less and less frequent but no less frantic. 

Eddie truly believed he didn’t want to be gay. He didn’t want to try to accept himself or make himself feel better. He wanted it to stop. He wanted to like girls. He wanted not to notice boys. He really and earnestly thought this, and tried all the time to make it true. He prayed, hoped, attempted to confirm he was straight… But nothing worked. He always came back to church.

He’d always felt unworthy of his church. And something inside of him liked that. It liked that church made him feel blasphemous. It liked that his religion truly controlled him. It liked it and used it, giving him the visions he so often had as a child of the church as a whole throwing him out for being unworthy, making sure he was weak and beaten down. And it never stopped. At fourteen years old, Eddie was still scared to death of his priest and never dared speak to him. He still averted his eyes from the pictures inside the building. 

He truly feared the church, almost sure the pictures on the wall would suddenly denounce him as not worthy and throw him out.

So there he sat, hands clasped in front of his forehead, his hair in his eyes as he choked back tears and prayed as hard as he could.

He’d gotten too close to Bill yesterday. Much too close. Close enough to brush noses. He remembered how Bill’s aftershave and body wash had mingled together, he had memorized how the light had caught the blue of his eyes, he knew exactly how Bill’s body looked up close, and he felt both a rush of want and pride and abject terror. Eddie had thought about kissing Bill, too-or, rather, Bill kissing him- and that thought set off a terrible chain reaction of self-loathing. So here he sat amongst the other sinners, next to his mother, fearing the intensity of his own sins was radiating off of him so that she would sense them. 

His eyes weren't closed when he prayed. At first they were squeezed tightly shut, trying to replace the image of Bill in his head, begging for Jesus to enter his heart like the priest said. He was supposed to just know, to feel it. He didn't feel anything. Except an attraction to boys instead of girls, of course. 

“... In the name of The Father,” the priest recited, and raised the back of his thumb to his forehead. The churchgoers repeated. 

(queer)

The hand traveled down to the priest’s heart. “The Son,”

(faggot)

Then two taps on his shoulders, from left to right. “And The Holy Spirit.”

(girlyboy)

Eddie said the words loudly in his mind, trying to perform the movements as perfectly as possible, as if it was a secret code that unlocked God and His love and forgiveness. He kissed his thumb, just like everyone else. And of course, nothing. It was always nothing. Jesus wasn't in his heart and probably never would be, Eddie figured. He looked at the wooden cross that loomed above the priest’s head that bore the giant words “GOD LIVES”. He looked back down immediately, like the simple statement would call God’s attention to him and the floor would open up and drop him down into Hell with all the murderers and thieves, because he was gay. 

He wanted to leave, he wanted to cry and run away from the church, but he forced himself to stay. It was like a punishment, he really did deserve punishment. Maybe the terrible vast coldness and fear he got from the church might make him better and might scare him away from Bill. But it never did. All it did was make him seek out Bill’s comfort afterwards so he could try and escape the guilt. But he still felt it, and it would be even worse. It was an awful, endless cycle. 

They always said God’s and Jesus’s love was endless. That if you really repented and opened yourself up to The Lord, you would be forgiven and accepted into heaven. But, Eddie supposed, that only happened if you stopped sinning. And Eddie couldn't seem to stop himself. Every glance at Bill reaffirmed that idea. All he wanted to do was bury it deep down, and he had been able to do that, to a degree. But was it enough? Would Jesus see straight through all the layers he dug his sins? 

Eddie had plenty of those, all of the nights he’d spent indulging in them and thinking about anything he wanted and never thinking twice about the wrongfulness of his sins. He could even remember certain fantasies, mostly the ones where Bill would take him into his arms and hold him there, tight, whispering things into Eddie’s ear that would make him squirm and sigh and melt-

Eddie shuddered. He felt his mother grab his forearm and lead him into a kneel on the small cushions that folded out of the back of the pews. The priest began another prayer, but every word felt hollow to Eddie. The church never gave him a sense of warmth and fullness, just a dull, hollow ache. 

(oh please god i'll be so good i'll get a good wife and i'll have kids and i'll always go to church just take it away)

Eddie bowed his head and stared at his bent knees. He was trying so hard, didn't God see that? Didn't He know that if he could stop, he would? He'd tried. He'd tried avoiding Bill but it was fruitless, his feet would carry him down to the barrens against his will. Eddie would have testified to God Himself that he never, ever wanted to or went there on his own accord. But of course that wasn't true. He just wanted it to be true. 

He wanted it to be true because it did truly scare Eddie how deeply and unquestioningly he loved Bill. He completely gave his heart to Bill, did anything Bill said, loved him unconditionally. He wanted it to be true because Bill was almost too good to be true, so handsome and strong and smart. He wished to believe that he was only making Bill out to be something so great, that no person could ever be as good as Eddie thought Bill was. And maybe that was true. Maybe Eddie’s mind exaggerated Bill’s stature. But that didn’t change the fact that Eddie still thought those things. He followed Bill’s every whim of his own accord. No amount of pleading would change that. Eddie loved Bill and he shouldn’t. That was how it had to be. 

Eddie bit back his tears and prayed harder. He prayed that he wouldn't see Bill anymore, but the very thought made him shiver. He only condemned himself more for that, for being so selfish. Would he really take Bill over a life free from sin, a pass into heaven? 

The leper would say yes, Eddie, you should. Eddie could feel its hot breath on his neck as he lowered his head, and he nearly sobbed. The leper’s voice was tittering in his head now, drowning out the preacher. 

‘Come on, Eddie. Look at that cross, it’s just a big fat lie. God’s dead! Just kiss Bill once and you'll see. You'll never want to stop then. If you do it, you won't feel guilty anymore. You won't care about this place.’

Eddie trembled and felt himself being pulled back up into his seat. “Eddie, dear, why are you shaking?” Sonya Kaspbrak whispered. Eddie jumped, terrified, still close to tears. 

“Just cold, Ma,” he breathed, his heart thrumming. The guilt was overwhelming. He wanted to cry and tell his ma everything, just to lift it off his chest, but he couldn't. He'd get kicked out, or worse. 

Or worse.

\--  
“Hey, Eddie Spaghetti!” Richie’s recently created Italian Mobster Voice rang through Eddie’s ears as he sat in the Barrens. He looked up from the comics he’d been reading, spotting Richie tearing wildly through the underbrush as if from a wild animal (or from the Bowers Gang, Eddie thought absently, the thought almost an echo of the past at this point) and coming out next to the smaller boy. 

“What d'you want, Richie,” Eddie said irritably. He was still wearing his Sunday best, and Richie’s crappy, beaten up Keds were kicking up dust into them, as well as the fact that Richie was standing on his pant leg. “And whatever it is, get off my pants, please.”

Richie ignored him, and sat down next to him heavily. “Nothing much, honeybunch,” he grinned. “What about you?”

Eddie immediately felt something like visceral disgust at the nickname. It wasn’t that he hated Richie, or the nickname… He just absolutely despised to idea of a boy calling him that. Calling him anything that wasn’t strictly platonic. Richie calling him Eds was bad enough, but honeybunch…? 

“I’d be better if you didn’t call me that,” Eddie snapped. Richie startled, innocent and magnified eyes wide and questioning at the venom in Eddie’s voice. Eddie felt a twinge of guilt at making his cheery friend nervous, but Richie had to know boundaries. 

Richie held his hands up, trying to look nonchalant and coming off as awkward. An uncomfortable half smile stretched across his face, and Eddie felt worse. “Geez Louise, boss, no need to be so pushy. Just say please, why don’t you.” Richie joked, but his voice was bear and there was no hint of humor. Eddie’s snaps always got to him. 

Eddie opened his mouth to reply, to say sorry, maybe, even to confess why he was so on edge, but Richie had already moved on.

“Eh-nyways, time to get moving! We’ve gotta go to Stan The Man’s house for board games.” Eddie nodded. Mhm, okay, sounds good. “Bill says you get first pick on monopoly game pieces!” Woah. Okay. Not good. But sure, Eddie could handle it.

“Sounds good,” Eddie said weakly, letting Richie pull him to his feet and over to where the Losers all stowed their bikes. 

They made it to Stan’s house in no time, Richie pedaling twice as fast as he knew Eddie could before screeching to a halt every couple hundred feet to let Eddie catch up, before setting back off. Eddie was wheezing by the time they arrived, cheeks red and breath whistling, and followed Richie frantically to the front door.

“Geez, Rich,” he panted. “That was a little unnecessary, huh?” he pulled his aspirator out and took a puff or two as Richie laughed in his usual hyena-esque way. 

Richie rang the doorbell a few times in quick succession before looking at Eddie, making as if he was going to pinch his cheek and pulling away at the last minute. He laughed more about how Eddie jerked away so fast, saying, “well, maybe… but it was funny. And good exercise, right, Eds?”

Eddie opened his mouth to reply, but Stan had come to the door with a peeved expression on his face, and was now looking down at the two short boys. “Hey,” he greeted them, opening the door and letting them file in. “Everyone’s in the downstairs living room, if you care to finally join us, Richie.” He led them down the stairs quick as he could, answering all of Richie’s attempts at banter in his normal Stanley fashion and standing to the side so they could enter. 

“Hey, kids!” Richie bounced to his seat at the low coffee table next to Beverly and immediately took it, stretching his legs out as far as the short things could go and smiling contentedly at Mike’s sound of protest. “Eddie Spaghetti’s finally here, so we can get started!” 

Bill waved at Eddie, who was still standing hesitantly in the frame. Even Stan, who was usually the perfect host, had taken his seat and left him standing there. “Huh-hey, Eds,” Bill smiled. “I s-s-saved you a seat nuh-hext to m-me.” He patted the plush white carpet next to him and Eddie felt another flush of pink race up his neck for no real reason he could pinpoint, other than how nice Bill was being. He almost hated it, because Bill was just encouraging his own sinful, awful thoughts.

Did he know? Did he understand what he was doing? Eddie didn’t quite think so, Bill was much too good of a friend

(dear jesus meekandmild keep him just a friend)

to tease anyone if he knew it was so difficult for them to stay pure. 

Like Richie, for example. 

Richie was an example of everything Eddie was scared of becoming. Openly gay, slatternly in some ways, slightly reckless… he was everything the Leper wanted him to be. A filthy sinner who ignored his own God and saviour in favor of cheap thrills and short-lived romances. Eddie knew from everything he heard about homosexuals, they never lasted in their relationships. Men and men could never last, they were too similar to get along for long. Nothing gay lasted, it was all a cheap facade from the devil himself to keep you occupied, and Richie had fallen prey to the trick.

Eddie kept Richie in his prayers every night, asking God to give both Richie and himself deliverance and to put the fear of Him into Richie’s heart, so that maybe, just maybe his mistakes could be tempered and forgiven. Eddie wanted all his friends with him in heaven- well, six of the seven, anyway, but what could you do about Stan?

He was terrified of becoming like Richie. And Bill, apparently, didn’t even notice Richie’s awful behaviors, and continued to let Richie flirt and coo at him and sit on his lap. Eddie always felt a twinge in his chest when that happened- it wasn’t jealousy, he told himself, just worry for his friend and a little surprise at Bill for being so indulgent of sin, he could never be envious of that kind of thing. 

Eddie only smiled meekly, raising a hand to say hello to Bill before he sat down as carefully as possible, desperate not to touch his neighbor, lest he turn completely red. “Hi, Bill.”

“Yuh-you can pih-hick your p-p-piece, now, if you want.” Bill smiled warmly, and Eddie felt the heat tingle from the tips of his toes to his gelled blonde curls. 

“Sure, Big Bill.” Eddie reached out to pick the little silver terrier dog, and Bill nodded approvingly. He caught the expression out of the corner of his eye and felt another rush of emotion, this time happiness and pride at the fact he pleased Bill, but ignored it and put his dog down on the start. 

He looked at the other Losers, a small grin playing on his lips, before he said the same thing whoever started their games always did; “so, who’s gonna almost beat Stan this time?” 

They all laughed at the traditional phrase before breaking into chatter as they chose their figurines, Richie and Beverly bickering over the car, Bill claiming his usual boat, and Stan, Mike and Ben taking the cat, wheelbarrow and boot, respectively. Beverly eventually gave up after huffing in Richie's smug face before grabbing the thimble and pouting for the next ten minutes.

As soon as the game was underway, Eddie lost almost all of his worries and thoughts. He gave them all up for the time being, focusing on his job as the banker and keeping himself out of jail and protecting his land with fees for landing rather than how he was going to keep himself pure and good. He was nearly a normal kid, laughing and joking with friends even as the small voice in the back of his head taunted and teased and laughed whenever he blushed at one of Bill’s comments or laughed at his jokes. It stayed like that for quite a bit, all of them joking and laughing, before Stan finally collected his final winnings and finished the game off with almost every buck in the game. They all hummed and hawed over his prize, Beverly insisting that since he always wins Stan doesn’t get a prize, Mike insisting they be fair and buy Stan his burger when they went to the diner.

“It’s really only fair,” Mike finished earnestly. “He won fair and square, we compensate fair and square.”

“Yeah, yeah, Mikey Mike, but all I care about is who’s driving.” That was Richie’s only comment as he pushed his hair back and mounted the stairs.

“Wait, what?” Eddie tugged on Bill’s sleeve, asking, “wait, are you guys going to a diner?”

“Duh-don’t we always, Eh-heds?” Bill cocked his eyebrow, Eddie feeling almost flustered at the sight of Bill’s creamy, freckled cheeks and blue eyes and grecian nose. He tried to push the thoughts away, but to no avail. The thoughts were comfortable, almost natural, if Eddie let himself think that way, and his exhausted defenses slowly went down for a moment.

“Yeah, we do, Bill,” he almost breathed, looking at Bill dreamily as he let himself think happier thoughts for just a little longer. “I just- forgot.” 

“Thuh-then we’re g-g-going n-n-now, too, Eddie. Like uh-always.” Eddie nodded, lips parting as he looked at the taller boy in a sort of bliss. It was almost as if he’d never noticed all those things about Bill before, like how nice his cupid’s bow was and his nice cheekbones, or even his adorable cowlicks. 

The the feeling of relaxation was ruined when Eddie felt a bigger hand drop to his and twine the finger together. Startled, he jumped backwards and up almost five feet and was shaken out of his daze. He tore his hand away like it was hot, feeling a dull guilt in his chest at Bill’s shocked face. 

No touching Bill.

‘Just do it, kid,’ the leper jeered again. ‘Do it, I promise you won’t regret it!” 

But Eddie did regret the moment of touch, how close he allowed himself to get to Bill (or, more realistically, Bill to get to him). He felt he burning sensation he sometimes felt at Bill’s touch rush up his arm and bit his lip in confliction, before he busied himself lacing up his shoes.

“Eh-Eddie?” He looked up to see the ginger's concerned face above him, and he finally sealed himself for what he knew he had to do. No more excuses.

“Actually, Bill, I think I’m just gonna go home.”

“Huh? Eddie, what’s wruh-wruh-wrong with-”

“I think,” Eddie said again, “I’m going to go home. I… I don’t feel well.” 

The two stood there, looking at each other, a small, thin blonde boy and a tall strong redheaded one facing off in what seemed to be a way full of finality.

Bill shrugged, continuing to fiddle with the ends of his hair and chew the inside of his cheek as he looked at Eddie’s grim face. “Oh… Oh-hokay, Eddie. Huh-hope you f-f-f-feel better.” He began to jog up the stairs, calling for Stan to wait up and that he would drive and no, Richie couldn’t have shotgun because Ben already called it. Eddie listened to his friends’ chatter, to Bill’s strong, sure, deep voice, and felt something fall away inside of him.

That was something he couldn’t change now, he felt it. There was no going back now.

No more excuses. No more Bill. No more letting himself off. And Eddie felt his heart begin to drain, just a little bit, ignoring it and beginning the walk home. 

It couldn’t be any worse, right?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s juh-huh-hust so w-w-weird,” Bill said, his voice strained and absently confused. “He hasn’t tuh-t-talked to me in wuh-w-weeks.” He tossed the baseball he was holding up into the air behind him once, catching it in his mitt behind his back before tossing it right into the waiting Mike’s glove. The ball made a satisfying swish and thunk as it landed, and Mike threw it up above his head, back up to catch it before going back to toe the line. 
> 
> “I dunno, man, he seems pretty normal to me, just a little sad.” Mike raised an eyebrow. “Maybe just let him come to you?”
> 
> Bill frowned deeper, the advice getting deeper under his skin every time it was given to him, and he caught the ball again, putting his mitt more forward than it usually would be so he’d feel the impact more, before throwing it back twice as hard as he’d caught it. “I’ve truh-truh-tr-t-truh- F-F-F-FUCK!” Bill threw the ball down, and he took his mitt off as well, dropping it down next to the ball. He closed his eyes, fingers running to cover his ears and grasping in his hair as he took deep breaths and tried to compose himself.
> 
> Composure didn't come easy in Derry, Maine.

Two weeks week, four days, and fifteen hours.

That’s how long it had been since Bill Denbrough had last hung out with his best friend.

He’d last seen him when Bill had (stupidly) made a move after a rousing game of monopoly. He’d last seen him before Eddie had dropped Bill’s hand and run away, fear and a sort of warped disgust in his eyes. He’d last seen him when he’d said he’d felt sick, and started to walk home. And not since.

Bill had started out making excuses- it was flu season, so Eddie might be sick, or afraid of the Losers getting him sick. Eddie’s mom might be keeping him home right after school to do winter cleaning, or something ridiculous. Eddie was just taking a little bit of a break from the Losers as a group, because it was stressing them out. He was fighting with Richie. Anything. 

Well, it had almost been two fucking weeks, and the kid wasn’t back to Bill yet. Something was up. And it was driving Bill nuts.

Bill was used to seeing Eddie every day- to being able to talk to him about anything at anytime, to be able to check up on him. To see how nice he looked that day. And now he couldn’t. Because Eddie was avoiding him. 

They talked a little, sure- it was hard to ignore the guy who sits next to you in every class- but it was as little as possible. And when they did talk, Eddie always looked like he had early onset lockjaw. He looked so stressed and little and scared. So Bill dropped it- he told himself Eddie would just come when he was ready. He wanted to be mad at Eddie for brushing him off- he wanted to be angry that Eddie was giving him the cold shoulder and randomly up and leaving him. But he couldn’t be. 

Because he was major, super in love with Eddie Kaspbrak. 

Not just a little, no, not a crush. Not an infatuation. He LOVED Eddie. He thought about him day and night. Daydreamed about him. Thought about him every two minutes. If Richie knew, he’d make a joke about how teenagers think about sex every ten seconds in relation to Bill thinking about Eddie every seven seconds. It was BAD. So no, he wasn’t mad at Eddie for this- he was borderline heartbroken. He wanted his best friend back. 

Bill loved his other friends, sure- they were all great. But Eddie was his BEST friend. He was different. He laughed at all Bill’s jokes, even if they were bad, he was always patient with Bill’s stutter. He waited for Bill after school. He let Bill copy his health homework, because he knew how Bill hated the teacher and spent the periods writing and doodling. He fussed over Bill until the redhead was almost laughing hysterically. He made the shrewdest observation in the group besides Stan’s. He was Eddie Kaspbrak. 

And now he was ignoring his own best friend.

“It’s juh-huh-hust so w-w-weird,” Bill said, his voice strained and absently confused. “He hasn’t tuh-t-talked to me in wuh-w-weeks.” He tossed the baseball he was holding up into the air behind him once, catching it in his mitt behind his back before tossing it right into the waiting Mike’s glove. The ball made a satisfying swish and thunk as it landed, and Mike threw it up above his head, back up to catch it before going back to toe the line. 

“I dunno, man, he seems pretty normal to me, just a little sad.” Mike raised an eyebrow. He was used to his friends over-hyping their drama with each other, but Bill never did that, and the furrow of his brow really seemed sincere. “Maybe just let him come to you?”

Bill frowned deeper, the advice getting deeper under his skin every time it was given to him, and he caught the ball again, putting his mitt more forward than it usually would be so he’d feel the impact more, before throwing it back twice as hard as he’d caught it. “I’ve truh-truh-tr-t-truh- F-F-F-FUCK!” Bill threw the ball down, and he took his mitt off as well, dropping it down next to the ball. He closed his eyes, fingers running to cover his ears and grasping in his hair as he took deep breaths and tried to compose himself. Mike simply watched, waiting for his friend to collect himself. Bill was quick and prone to anger, but it never lasted longer than a few minutes. Bill thought of how you say it in French- /en essayant/- and he tried again. 

“I’ve truh-tried that f-for the last few weeks,” Bill explained. “Hasn’t w-wuh-worked.” He threw the ball again, this time a high arc, and Mike caught it expertly, eyes still on Bill. They only flicked to the ball for a moment. The redhead fixed his hair again, pushing it to the side, and his expression was almost pained. “H-he ignores m-muh-me in cuh-lass, Mike. W-w-we sit next t-to eachother, and h-he ign-nores me.” 

Bill’s voice was teetering on the edge of breaking, and Mike made a noise of understanding before he walked over to Bill and slung an arm around his shoulder. “Hey, Bill, it’s okay, you know?” Mike said reassuringly. “He can’t do it forever, he loves you, man. He’ll get over it soon. He looks so sad nowadays when he hang out.” Mike raised an eyebrow as if he expected an epiphany..

Bill raised an eyebrow right back, not understanding what he was supposed to think of Mike’s vague statement. “Uh huh...” 

“Ever since, well, I’d say two or three weeks ago,” Mike hinted again, smiling hopefully.

The meaning dawned on Bill all at once, and he playfully pushed Mike off. “Shuh-shut up,” Bill grumbled, “ih-it’s not to d-d-do with me, idiot.”

“Bill, are you /kidding/? Mike said incredulously. “Eddie looked at you like you were the fucking stars in the sky! He hung off of every word you said! He never did anything without you! I mean, he loved you, man, really /loved/ you!”

The other teen tried to hide his dopey grin behind his hand, beginning to pick up their equipment (Mike was a substitute catcher on the Derry High baseball team when he was free from football, so they’d been practicing catching pitches and stopping people from coming home) and shielding his face behind his burning red curls. “D-does not,” he said softly, but the softness didn’t seem like it was from shyness; rather, it seemed to come from a place of a flustered teenager in love with a voice thick and small from love and quiet thoughts. “I doubt h-he even luh-l-looked at me half the time.”

He knew Eddie did, though, he looked two halves of the time, and maybe that was why he was so sad that Eddie was gone. There was no one to stare and clap for and admire Bill. Was that conceited? To want someone there to encourage you? Of course Bill loved Eddie too- he loved everything about the blond boy. But the feeling of having a constant presence there with him was so comforting, he missed it more than anything. 

Mike rolled his eyes. “You’re an idiot, Bill,” he said, smiling a smile that flashed his brilliant white teeth, before slinging an arm around the tall, nervous, lovesick Bill Denbrough and starting to walk towards the street. They walked home together in the dying light.

\--

On that same night, Eddie Kaspbrak awoke with fleeting feeling of warmth and dizziness in his head. He didn’t gasp, didn’t sit up- he only snapped open his eyes and felt the reality of where he was sink in as the barely-memorable dream faded away. Gasping and sitting up was for movie actresses, not teenage boys with breathing issues. God only knows how that might cramp his lungs, sitting up so fast like that. 

He looked over at the clock- 3:40. Of course. Why would Eddie wake up from a dream at a normal person time? 

He tried not to focus on that, though, and he got up to brush his teeth, despite knowing it would simply wake him up further. The cold water, the mint taste, the feeling of a substance in his mouth that felt kind of like it might be food, he knew it’d all wake him up, and he wouldn’t be able to sleep.

But, upon getting back into bed, he started to realize he wouldn’t have gotten back to sleep anyways.

Okay, so maybe he’d had a dream about Bill.

A not-so-platonic dream about Bill.

A kissing-touching-moaning-sinning dream about Bill. 

He put his hands over his eyes, and he sighed. He’d been so good- he hadn’t let Bill distract him from his Path. He hadn’t talked to Bill in weeks, even, not about anything important, anyways. He didn’t hang out with him, think about him, do /anything/ with Bill… So why had this even happened?

Eddie let himself fall onto his back, hands still over his eyes, and let out another sigh. He was still mortified, disappointed, and angry with himself, but when he thought about the dream his stomach did this thing where it sank and felt like it was dissolving in a burst of heat that seemed hot enough to be causing the flare in Eddie’s cheeks.

‘Forget it already,’ Eddie was telling himself. ‘You’ve gotten this far, it’ll get easier if you just push through.’

Eddie’s hand slid down the length of his cheek and he cupped his own face, how Bill had in that terrible 

(wonderful)

dream. He tried to think of something else, anything else, but he couldn’t. Eddie bit the inside of his cheek and let out a breath. “Just once,” he mumbled into the pitch black of his bedroom. “I’ll forget it tomorrow.”

Eddie began racking his brain for every last detail of the dream, almost desperately. He didn’t remember where he and Bill were, but they were sitting on a couch, or maybe it was a bed; it didn’t matter. 

Bill had been looking at Eddie. Not in the normal, friendly way, either. His intentions were so obvious, as Eddie reflected, but in the dream he’d been so nervous he hadn’t been able to decipher what that look meant. 

He remembered Bill putting his hand on Eddie’s thigh as they spoke and that they had gotten dangerously close. They’d been in similar situations in real life before (although nowhere to this extent), but instead of Eddie panicking and moving away from Bill, he stayed. Even when Bill leaned forward and crashed their lips together, Eddie didn’t move. He didn’t want to. 

Eddie was waiting for Bill to pull away quickly, maybe yell at Eddie for being such a freak and letting him do that, but Bill didn’t pull away. He only kissed harder and moved closer to Eddie, so that Eddie was leaning so far back he was close to falling. Eddie felt Bill’s tongue slip into his mouth and gasped. Bill seemed to take Eddie’s opened mouth as an opportunity to kiss him more, while Eddie opened and closed his mouth clumsily around Bill’s lips. Eddie shivered when he remembered this, starting to trace his lips with his knuckle. 

Bill had finally pulled away, smiling. “Wha-Wh-What’s wrong E-Eh-Eddie?” he teased, and buried his hand in Eddie’s curls. Eddie whined, eyes wide and fearful. He had no idea what was going on or what had gotten into Bill, but… 

“Do y-yuh-you like ih-it?” Bill continued. Eddie nodded and squirmed a little, still in the position where he was nearly falling. 

“S-Sure, Big Bill,” he said dumbly. “Could you, um, move a little, I’m—“ Bill moved quickly and pushed Eddie down onto his back fully. He put his hands on Eddie’s hips, and Eddie squirmed again. “I didn’t… I meant…” Eddie stammered. He gazed up at Bill and knew his face had to be red, he could feel himself burning up. The way Bill was looking at him and touching him and being on top of him like that was something so new, and it felt so good, even though it was so wrong.

Eddie turned his head to the side in embarrassment, but Bill remained undeterred. Instead, he started kissing up Eddie’s neck and throat, his hands making slow circles in Eddie’s hips as he did so. Eddie gasped again and reached for Bill, clawing down his back and making a small, drawn out noise. 

“Ohh…” he breathed. “Oh, Bill.” Bill went back up to Eddie’s lips and started kissing him heavily again. Eddie froze up, still stiff and clumsy in his movements, but Bill didn’t seem to mind. Bill was doing most of the work, anyway. 

Bill sucked gently on Eddie’s lip as he pulled away. “I like th-th-th-those n-nuh-oises.”

“What noises, Bi—mmmn…” Eddie’s speech tumbled to a halt when Bill started feverishly kissing Eddie’s neck again. He couldn’t think very well, his mind was so fuzzy. He just clutched Bill for dear life as he tried to keep himself under control. 

“I thuh-th-think you nuh-know,” Bill said teasingly. His hands moved slowly, painfully slowly, from Eddie’s chest to his waist, and he smiled into Eddie’s neck as he felt the smaller boy sigh and his hips stutter. He took the action even farther, and he used the opportunity to slide his hands down to the fly of Eddie’s pants. 

Eddie’s eyes suddenly snapped shut, and he felt his mind go blank. He couldn’t even speak- he just let himself keen up into Bill’s waiting hands. Eddie let out a whine, letting Bill fidget with his zipper. The tiniest bit of friction that came from that was enough to force Eddie to bite his lip.

Eddie looked up into Bill’s eager face before looking back down at where Bill’s hand was. With full force he realized what Bill—both of them—were doing. He made a half-hearted attempt at a protest, reaching for Bill’s hand, but he didn’t push it away. He couldn’t bring himself to. God, he really did want this so bad. 

“D-do you want me t-t-to go fuh-farther?” This dream-version of Bill asked, his big blue eyes turned to Eddie’s green ones as he fiddled with Eddie’s fly. Eddie nodded breathlessly, practically pulling Bill’s hand to his waistband, and he felt his heart quicken at the thought of Bill touching him where no one, not even Eddie himself, had touched him before.

“Yes, please,” Eddie said, and he felt himself start to float away from what was happening in this dream. “I love you, Bill,” he continued desperately. He was begging this dream not to end, even as his entire body and mind was screaming it him to stop. Only the Leper was encouraging him on.

As quickly as he remembered the dream, Eddie was brought back to reality. He’d drifted off as he remembered it, and when he glanced at the clock, it was around 5. He could hear the few over-achieving birds chirping outside the window, but in the dark, March morning, they were the only sound. Eddie was alone with the birds Stan would bring Eddie to watch later and his own uneven breathing. 

Absentmindedly, he touched his cheek; his fingers were freezing, but his cheeks were burning. And wet. The silent tears he’d been crying- crying over his own sin, his own helplessness against the voices inside of him, his awful weakness to everything and everyone- turned into hitching silent sobs, and he buried his face in his pillow. ‘Maybe I’d asphyxiate if I do it long enough’, he thought dimly. ‘I’ll have an asthma attack and I can just hold my face against the pillow and it will all be over. Mom would be so mad.’ That last thought was with satisfaction. How he hated his mother for making him weak, making him so frail and vulnerable and scared of the world. He’d love to show her he had control over his life; when it ended or went on, that would be the greatest prize to control.

‘But Eddie,’ said another voice. ‘God wants you at His own time. Would you really take yourself before He takes you? Isn’t that selfish?’

Eddie turned that thought over in his mind as he lay there, in his too-comfy bed in his too-warm house with his too-stuffed pillow pressing into his mouth. Maybe God did want him to wait- offing yourself was a sin, wasn’t it?- but his mind had been wrong before. And maybe God was giving him a sign- maybe it was his time. And it’s not like he was disfiguring himself or anything. He’d do it cleanly, if he did it at all, wouldn't he? No messy slitting his wrists or shooting himself in the head business. Just quick and fast and clean, so he could be buried and look nice in his sunday suit one more time. 

‘And anyway’, Eddie thought back, ‘it’s not selfish, really. No one wants me here. I don’t even want me here. Richie and Stan are best friends, and Beverly and Ben, and Bill and Mike- there’s no room for me, and no one else wants me. Why stay?’

‘Oh, but Bill wants you, Eddie.’ A voice from the very back of Eddie’s head purred itself back into the foreground. ‘Bill wants you everywhere. In his mouth, on his chest, in his throat- everywhere. He wants you on his cock, too, you know it. Give him what he wants, Eddie, it might be your only chance to do that for someone.’

That was the last straw. Large, hiccuping, snot-filled sobs started as Eddie’s shivering, small body sunk lower and lower into the mattress. He was so fucking weak, he didn’t even have his mind to himself. He had to share it like rental space with anyone who wanted to be there, it was ridiculous. It was awful. He wished he could die just so this would all stop. 

The crying petered out as the sun came up, until the only remnants of it were in his puffy red eyes and his damp shirt. He got up, switching the unneeded alarm off on his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth for the second time that day.

Looking in the bathroom mirror, he promised himself something. His eyes were solemn and dark as he looked himself in the eyes over the rim of his sink.

The leper would not win, no matter what.

The leper wouldn’t win.

Hopefully, Eddie Kaspbrak knew what he was getting into when he made a promise.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Except, Eddie thought as he reminisced on this time while he walked home, there shouldn’t be an injury, because Bill was never even his in the first place. Eddie had no reason to be jealous. 
> 
> But oh my god, was he jealous.

Eddie grabbed his backpack along with his books from his locker and closed it again quickly. There was a note from Bill tucked away in the corner Eddie couldn’t even bear to look at at this point. 

“Heya, Eds, my main man, my baby doll—“

“Shut up,” Eddie hissed. Richie’s huge eyes magnified by his glasses flickered for just a moment, revealing something that was maybe hurt, or probably worry, before returning to their mischievous glint. He pantomimed zipping his mouth shut and locking it before throwing away the key. 

“Listen, you wanna come fuck around in the Barrens after school?” The dark-haired boy asked, completely forgetting his last unspoken promise, as he and Eddie walked towards the school doors. “You haven’t been around in forever. But today’s gonna be a real treat, a totally shakin’ shin-dig, brother-man!”

“What’re you gonna do?” Eddie asked flatly. His answer was already at the back of his head, gnawing on the prison bars that were his teeth to get out and get this over with. 

Richie whistled and pushed his hair back. “Well, see, we haven’t got much planned yet,” he admitted. “But Stan might bring some of his new comics, and—get this—Mike and Ben are bringing some tools and blueprints to maybe build a cooler-box type thing in the barrens! Ben read in this book—“

“For God’s sake, that isn’t a treat at all!” Eddie snapped. Richie got that look behind the eyes again for a moment. “Listen, I’m just not in the mood, Richie.”

Richie sighed and slumped. “You never are anymore, Eds, Jesus. You’d think someone took a shit in your cereal every day. What’s going on? You’re acting crazy over fuck all. Just cause Bill and Bev are going steady doesn’t mean everyone in the damn club has to be an asshole—“ 

Eddie ripped away from Richie suddenly, a seething pain and jealousy bubbling in his gut. “Screw you, Richie, nobody’s being an asshole but you!” he cried. Richie froze in place, dumbfounded. His big, stupid eyes looking incredulously at Eddie like he was the bad guy, like 

(he was a fagola straight from the kissing bridge)

he was insane. It only made Eddie more upset. 

“Why would we even need a cooler in the fucking winter?! It’s stupid!” the small boy spat, the last icy, childish comment to throw back over his shoulder at Richie before he fled down the hall and towards somewhere, anywhere he wouldn’t see Bill and Beverly. Towards home. 

Bill had asked Beverly out a few weeks ago, and Eddie had never wanted to sink into a larger hole than he had when he found out. Beverly’d looked as if she’d just been asked for her hand in marriage, and at first Eddie had looked eagerly at Ben. They all knew how much Ben loved the redhead. But to Eddie’s surprise, Ben looked almost comically sad. 

So, of course, he’d sat down next to Ben, tracing the boy’s eyes from where they were to where they looked- of course, straight at Bev. 

“Girl problems?” Eddie asked, trying to come off as sympathetic and understanding but instead sounding genuinely curious.

“Yeah,” Ben had sighed, resting his chin on one pudgy hand and blowing his hair out of his eyes. 

“Whats up?”

Ben raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t hear?” Eddie shook his head. “Oh. Well, Bill asked Bev out totally out of the blue and practically tore his heart out of his chest and gave it to her, he was selling it so hard.” The harshness in Ben’s voice had been uncharacteristic, but Eddie’d supposed it was understandable- after all, if you’ve been told you’re ugly your whole life and you finally had a chance, only to have it suddenly taken away by the same guy who’d kept that chance away from you all those years, you’re bound to get a little bitter. 

Regardless of that, Eddie felt his stomach drop through the floor like he’d just went down the largest hill on a roller coaster- Bill had asked someone out? After all of that… that bullshit with Eddie in the basement? And it had to be Beverly

(of course it had to be beverly look at her and then look back at yourself why would he not choose her you ugly little runt youre a runt youre too boyish obviously it was beverly)

out of any of the dozens of girls he could have easily had? Really? That just added insult to injury.

Except, Eddie thought as he reminisced on this time while he walked home, there shouldn’t be an injury, because Bill was never even his in the first place. Eddie had no reason to be jealous. 

But oh my god, was he jealous.

Seeing Beverly and Bill together made him feel sick to his stomach. They were so happy, so sweet, so… so perfect. They were truly the perfect couple, both of them, their perfect bodies and hair and grades and personalities meshing and moulding together into a perfect relationship. They were so predictable and sweet together, Bill’s strong, sure arms perfect for holding Beverly’s tiny waist and his big hands for grabbing at her hips and long legs and her pretty red hair. Beverly was gorgeous and so was Bill and it was sometimes too much to bear; and Eddie, thinking about it as he laid in bed, would bury his head in his pillow and groan to himself and feel tears prick at his throat. He was embarrassed to be jealous- he told himself he wasn’t envious in the first place, that he didn’t care what Bill did, but he felt a possessive sneer pull at his lips when he had to watch Beverly twist around to give Bill a kiss or see Bill hoist Beverly up onto his back in a piggyback ride. It all made him so jealous and guilty and mad, and then he felt guilty for all of that because he wasn't even supposed to be thinking about Bill.

He’d managed not to pretty well, before the Beverly thing. He avoided Bill well, claiming to be sick or have to finish a project and staying home or just not daring to look at Bill. He stayed home more and more, to his mother’s confusion and delight, and his grades were consequently slipping, but he didn’t care. None of it mattered until he wasn’t having Thoughts of Bill anymore or Bill left his life. He could flunk for all he cared- all he wanted was to never, ever think about Bill again.

But, Jesus, was it hard. 

Bill and Eddie had been best friends since kindergarten- they knew nearly everything about eachother. They loved eachother so much, they used to spend every day together.

And along the way something had changed. They were still as close as ever, but there was a layer of… something. Something big. Eddie could never place it- but one day their touches and words seemed to have more weight. And they both knew it. And it scared them. 

Or, at least, it scared Eddie- he’d begun to recoil even before he realized he was, touching and laughing less and trying to separate himself from Bill more often. Just to make it easier when they both had to go their separate ways in life, Eddie told himself. 

And the fear had made it’s way all to now, a month and a half after Eddie stopped talking to his best friend in the entire world, and Eddie can’t even explain how lonely it makes him feel. And he couldn’t even have his other friends, because if you got them you got Bill and Eddie couldn’t have bill and it was all so complicated, Eddie wanted to cry where he stood on the sidewalk.

But instead of crying, he simply hitched his backpack higher on his shoulders and kept going. He had to get home- home was safe. It was suffocating, yes, and he hated everywhere in it except for his room, yes, but it was better than anywhere else.

He thought with a sharp stab of regret that Bill’s house used to have had the same feeling for him.

‘Shut up’, he told himself, ‘it’s not anymore and it’s only your fault. Maybe if you weren’t such a queer you could be there right now.’ Eddie kicked a rock into the street and watched it roll back to the gutter before he walked home in a gloomy silence, his head down and his blonde curls falling into his eyes. 

He tried to open the door softly as possible as he walked in, setting his bag down and unzipping it to grab his homework before tip-toeing (because making any noise in this house seemed almost sinful) up to his bedroom , where he would inevitably stay for the rest of the night. 

“Hey, Eddie-bear!” His mom called from the living room, and Eddie mumbled a small ‘hi Mom’ as he ran up the stairs. Luckily, his mother didn’t follow. Eddie didn’t think he would have been able to handle that on top of such a shitty day. 

He ran down the hall, opened his bedroom door, and closed it with a sigh of relief. Home. Safe. He took in his bedroom, which was still clean as he’d left it, aside from a few crumpled papers and his unmade bed from this morning. He, unusually, didn’t bother remaking it. What was the point?

Eddie sat cross-legged on his crumpled sheets and set his homework on his lap, his pencil at the ready in his other hand. He sighed again, and found himself wondering what the other Losers were doing at this same moment. Mike was probably still biking home, Richie was down at the Barrens smoking a cigarette and waiting for the others, wondering if Eddie would show up. Ben was digging through his set of tools and wood and trying to find some of his sketches. Stan was gathering his new comics and setting off towards the Barrens to be fashionably early. 

Eddie’s mind inevitably wandered to Bill. Bill was probably home, maybe sitting on his bed and doing homework just like Eddie. Maybe he was scratching his head and making that cute concentrated face like he sometimes did in English, and maybe he was anticipating a call from—

Eddie stopped himself short and put down his pencil. He rested his face in his hands with his elbows on his knees and tugged at his blonde hair. What the fuck was wrong with him? He was a month and a half strong, he couldn’t give all that progress up now. He was getting better.

Or, at least, he told himself he was.

He closed his eyes hard and drove the thoughts of the Losers (especially Bill) to the back of his mind, and picked up his pencil. He started to scratch down a few problems, but gradually slowed down as all the thoughts resurfaced, and he felt a terrible pang of sadness and longing in his chest. In a sudden wave, one he’d been suppressing for what felt like years, was washing over him; he missed them. He missed all of them. By cutting himself off from Bill, he was cutting himself off from everyone as a result. It was an unfair, shitty sacrifice for an even shittier result. All he wanted was to find solace in his friends like he once was able to. To cry to Stan or be held by Mike and given advice by Ben. Most of all, he wanted Bill back. He wanted his best friend back, for Christ’s sake, it was eating at him.

He didn’t just want Bill back, but he wanted him back and for it to be normal. He didn’t want to think about Bill the way he now did—whether with disdain or sinful delight—and just wanted to think of him as a friend. Like he did with any of the other losers. It wasn’t fair and Eddie hated it, he hated himself for it, for ruining things with him and Bill. 

Eddie was openly crying now. He sat miserably, hunched over, and sobbing quietly as tears fell onto his homework. Every thought of the Losers, every memory now being brought to the forefront of his mind, made him squeeze his eyes shut and suck in a sharp breath before sobbing again, even harder. He wanted to cry to someone. He wanted to wail and scream and throw a miserable, ugly tantrum while someone listened and comforted and held him when he finally calmed down and could only cough and cry out hoarsely. But he couldn’t, so he cried alone, surrounded by what seemed to all remind him of his friends he had now practically lost. 

Right before Eddie was going to decide to throw his homework to the floor and crawl under the covers to cry some more, there was a knock at the door. Eddie’s sobs hiccuped to a halt, as Eddie’s mind quickly told him, ‘Bill’s here. He came to see you and make things right’. Without thinking he scrambled off his bed and began to wipe madly at his eyes. 

“I’ll get it, Eddie-bear!” his mother said shrilly from downstairs.

“Shit!” Eddie hissed under his breath, fixing his hair in the mirror. If his mom answered the door, he was done for. Bill would turn and haul ass out of that place and never see Eddie again which, Eddie was suddenly thinking, might be for the best. But he ignored that seemingly-logical part of himself, so overwhelmed with grief for his loss of friends, that he sped out of his room and to the staircase just as his mother opened the door. 

He saw a flash of red hair, felt his heart leap, and then felt it crash again. Beverly Marsh was the one standing at his doorstep, with a polite smile on her face and some books clutched daintily to her chest. Eddie blinked, dumbfounded. Why was she here? Why was she not with… 

“Good afternoon, Ms. Kaspbrak,” Beverly greeted. Ms. Kaspbrak responded with a grunt, her fat cheeks and unimpressed scowl making her look like an ugly, mother bulldog. “Is Eddie home? I came to work on the project with him.”

“What project?” Eddie’s mother barked. Eddie could have asked the same question. Was he really so out of it he had forgotten a project?

Beverly cocked her head and tapped her bottom lip. “He didn’t tell you? Well, I suppose not, it was barely assigned yesterday. You see, it’s for social studies. We have to do a presentation about the effects of the British Navigation Acts on the Atlantic trade in the eighteenth century, and how it led to—“

“Alright, that’s enough,” Eddie’s mom interrupted while waving a hand at Beverly. “Goodness gracious, girl, you can really talk a woman’s ear off. Eddie! /Eddiiee/!!”

Eddie caught Beverly’s eye from the staircase, and she smiled apologetically. She looked a little surprised. Maybe she could see how red and puffy his eyes were, Eddie mused. 

He tromped down the stairs while wiping his eyes and bowing his head. He thought about blaming his look on allergies if his mother asked, but figured she would have him quarantined before he could say “I’m fine.” 

To his surprise and luck, she didn’t ask. As long as Eddie wasn’t going out and putting himself in her warped image of danger, it couldn’t be so bad. But she did warn him not to close the door while he was in there with her. 

Eddie led Beverly upstairs to his room in silence, not bothering to look back at her and read her facial expression. Whatever reason she was here, he convinced himself he didn’t care and wanted her out as soon as possible. He walked into his bedroom and sat on his bed, slumped over, and pushed all of his homework aside. Beverly dropped the books with a sheepish smile before directly disobeying Eddie’s mother and closing the door behind her. 

“Oh, don’t close it, mom said-”

“Your mom says a lot of things, Eddie, you don’t have to listen to all of them. She’s not gonna hurt you if you close the door, there’s nothing she can do,” Beverly cut him off swiftly.

“But she-”

“Thinks she’s going to find us doing shit to eachother? She won’t find anything even if she does come up here, obviously.” She tucked her hair behind her ear, the bracelet Bill had gotten her a week or so ago glimmering teasingly at Eddie as if to say, ‘look at what you don’t have, look at what you don’t deserve’, and he shrugged, blinking away the tears he felt biting at his eyes as they always ended up doing when he thought about how lucky Beverly was. How lucky all the losers were that they didn’t have to deal with this.

“Right, Eddie?” He looked up from his hands at the sound of his name, and he saw Beverly's concerned face with a sinking stomach. Shit. She noticed.

Eddie swallowed. 

“Uh, y-yes?” He bit his lip, blinking once more, hard. He couldn’t cry- not here, not now.

“Is something wrong, dear?” Of course she had to call him dear, like she always did, and of course she had to put her stupid fucking hand on his stupid fucking shoulder and look so stupidly fucking perfect. That all made it worse, and Eddie nodded vigorously, trying to clear his head and move his face enough to get the tears away. 

“I’m fine,” he managed, but even as he said it he felt more tears fall and his hands go to cover his face. 

Beverly looked on in apprehension, unused to seeing Eddie cry (or really express any emotion other than annoyance or sh happiness; Eddie pretended to get annoyed with Richie, but really, he never let people see what he was thinking unless he was totally pushed over the edge), before she grabbed at his wrists and pulled his hands away from his face. 

“You don’t seem fine,” she said dumbly, not knowing what to say, because really, what do you say in this situation? People crying really was a burden, Beverly thought in the back of her mind, it transfers all the responsibility to the person watching you cry and forces them to solve your problem while you throw a fit instead of managing your feelings independently. But, she supposed, burdens were what you carried for friends- and Eddie was a friend, wasn’t he? So Beverly had picked the burden up and said all she knew to say.

You were never really taught to manage feelings in school; it was something you were expected to learn and master on your own time. Learning to be a human was supposed to be a hobby. But Eddie hadn’t been allowed hobbies or extracurriculars or time outside of the house besides school. He’d never truly learned to manage his feelings like Beverly or Richie had. She heard the stories of him being a crybaby was a kid before, and that was what she saw now, kneeling before her. A big, grown-up child, crying and trembling and wiping face with heel of hand and making Beverly feel like she’d suddenly aged ten years. 

“Of course I’m not fine,” Eddie managed. “H-huh-how can I be fine if yuh-huh-you’re dating BILL?” He scraped the words out (barely) before lapsing back into sobs and leaving Beverly in a confused daze. 

“What… does that mean? Are you jealous we spend so much time together?” Beverly tried to make the blond clarify, but it only made Eddie cry harder, for reasons unknown to Beverly. “Eddie? Can you answer please?”

Eddie start to choke out a, “makes me jealous, but” before he covered his face in his face again and rested his elbows on his thighs. He didn’t want beverly, of all people, to see him like this. But he wanted to be understood. 

He took a deep breath, and tried again. 

“It makes me jealous,” he said, surprisingly clearly. “But not because of the time. It’s because... “ His eyes brimmed full of tears again, but he pressed on. “Because I- and he- you…” he trailed off, and his eyes went glassy as he considered what he was to say. ‘Oh, yeah, I’m just insanely depressed and jealous because you’re dating the guy I’ve been in love with for years and I feel guilty because I’m not supposed to feel like this about boys and I’m confused, could you please stop dating him so I don’t feel scared to come to school because I don’t want to look at him in the eye’? Yeah. Sounds great. 

He couldn’t possibly do this, not right now. He’s too weak. Like he always is. 

And suddenly he’s crying onto Beverly’s shoulder and she’s rubbing his back and cooing soft, calm things to him as she soothes him with her gentle rocking motions, and he can’t help but feel five all over again, crying to his mother after a scraped knee of a kid was mean to him. He felt like a fucking baby. ‘Beverly probably never cries like this’, a voice said to him, and he repeated the sentiment in an apology. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled into her shoulder, sniffling. “You probably don’t cry like this over stupid stuff. You don’t have to be here. I’m okay.”

“What?” Beverly squeezed Eddie tight against her. “Eddie, no, I cry all the time. All people do. You’re not being stupid.” She pried him off of her, looking at him in the eyes while she gently rubbed his arms up and down to keep him stable. “Can… can I know what’s wrong, please?” She said it in a gentle voice, and Eddie breathed a shaky, long sigh. 

He wanted to tell someone. The Leper didn’t want him to, though, and he was hesitant to go against what it said. After all, who knew what the Leper could do if he did tell Beverly? It might make everything even worse.

‘Would you tell a farmer you want to steal his cow, Eddie?” It simpered in the back of his mind. ‘Would you really? Do you want to tell her this, or is she just convincing you that you do?’

‘No, I want to’, Eddie told himself. ‘And the Leper wouldn’t win. I promised.’

He took a breath, and against the will of the howling voices he could hear in his mind, he began to speak.

“See, when I was a kid, I never really knew what a crush was. I just… it didn’t occur to me you would ever like someone. So I thought I was just picky. For a very, very long time. And then… I met Bill.” 

The words hung shakily in the air, pregnant with their meaning, before they dropped like a penny, and Beverly’s mouth and eyes formed perfect O’s. 

“And then…” Eddie felt his voice dip and waver like a bird losing altitude. “After I realized I… you know. And- and I just got really scared, and I feel like I’m sinning whenever I think about him, and I hear…” he trailed off. He wasn’t really going to tell her about the Voices, was he? He’d be put straight in Juniper Hill if he did. “We just can’t be friends anymore,” he finished, his voice grim and bleak, and Beverly could see the regret in his eyes, the way he held his body. This was someone who’d lost his best friend. She longed to reach out and comfort him, tell him it was all ok, but he looked fragile enough to break and she didn’t dare. 

“And him asking you out straight after we stopped being friends, I just… it feels like I was holding him back, and he didn’t want to hurt my feelings by dating someone, and now I’m gone he can do what he wanted to do. I mean, I’d understand… I suppose I always was clingy and stuff, and he might’ve realized how I- how I felt. And it’s all just such a mess and it makes me feel so awful, and I just. I can’t.” Eddie swiped at his eyes with his sleeve, before he put his hands under his crossed knees and looked with hot, teary eyes at his bedspread. “I just can’t.”

There was a resounding silence between the two teenagers, the sound of their breathing and shifting all that was there before Beverly finally spoke. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, hot tears falling from her cheeks onto her shaking legs and hands. “I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have said yes if I had known.”

“S’fine,” Eddie mumbled. “You don’t need to feel bad, Bev. There was no way you could have known.”

“I’m still sorry. I still shouldn’t have said yes.”

Eddie considered consoling her- he considered reassuring her and being the one to hug her and tell her she was just perfect the way she was and had nothing to apologize for. He opened his mouth to say something along those things, but instead, harsh, abrasive words came out.

“You’re right. You shouldn’t have.”

The look on her face would have been heartbreaking if Eddie hadn’t felt an all-consuming, lustful hatred in his gut as he said the words. ‘This is for being so perfect’, he thought. ‘This is for being so tall and lean and gorgeous and kind and smart. This is for being so cool. This is for taking

(people said she was a whore she fucked anything that moved and she said no she didnt and maybe she didnt eddie but remember that she still fucked bill still fucked bill STILL FUCKED BILL)

Bill’. 

Beverly’s face hardened before breaking apart. She nodded, biting her lip, and got up. “Okay.”

Eddie watched her walk to the door and snap it shut behind her. 

“Okay,” he said back, too late. “Goodbye.” He planned on that farewell being his last.

Wel.. Second to last. 

\--

Beverly rushed home, sweater wrapped tight around her against the rain and the cold and her own thoughts, and immediately started spinning her rotary phone. Her fingers were deft and the strokes familiar- she’d dialed this number plenty of times before. 

There was the familiar tone, the operator, and she said the line automatically. She hardly had to think. There was a tone and a click, and then there was him.

“Hello?” Bill’s warm, soft voice came through the speaker, and Beverly had to put a hand over her mouth in order not to immediately sob. “Who is this?”

She finally took her hand off of her mouth and cleared her throat. She really did owe this to Eddie, she thought. He’s been through a lot, she thought.

It’s now or never, she thought.

“Yeah, hi, Bill. It’s me. Listen, we really need to talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> follow me
> 
> tumblr- @stenbrough
> 
> instagram- @shalom.rose
> 
> twitter- @itshebrew4peace


End file.
